The Prodigal Son
by Ness Frost
Summary: Some of the thoughts that were going through Zuko's head on the night he reunited with Iroh.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own A:tLA or its characters, and I'm writing for fun not profit.

* * *

"Uncle—"

He only managed the single word before he was greeted, not by an angry voice or condemning silence, but by a hearty snore.

Zuko allowed himself a slight smile. That was Uncle Iroh, all right. That sound had been a near-constant companion in the latter months of his exile, keeping him awake many a night long after they'd bedded down in whatever Earth Kingdom barn or cave in which they'd managed to take shelter. He'd never thought that he would miss it so much.

A second later, however, the smile slipped from his face as his heart filled with equal parts relief and dread. Relief, because the confrontation had just been put off for that much longer. Dread, because he knew that it would still have to happen sooner rather than later.

It wouldn't be too soon, however. Given everything that Zuko had done already, he refused to insult the man further by waking him up in the middle of the night. Folding his legs underneath him, he settled to the floor of the tent to wait out the night.

What was he going to say?

"Sorry" would hardly be adequate. There was _nothing_ he could say that would be adequate. When he'd entered the tent he'd had no plans as to what he wanted to say; he simply would have spoken the first words that came to his mind. Now, however, he could no longer do that. Not when he had had any time at all to think.

_He'll forgive you._

Those had been Katara's words to him outside. At the time, they had bolstered his courage enough that he'd managed to get up and push aside the tent flap—_she_ had forgiven him, after all. Now, however, Zuko was beginning to have second thoughts about the hope that her words had instilled: the parallels weren't as clear-cut as he'd thought. Katara had been an old enemy on the brink of giving him a second chance, and had only forgiven him after he'd repaid her for the wrongs that he'd done. Even if he didn't consider his betrayal, however, Zuko knew that his debts to his uncle could never be repaid, not if he had a hundred lifetimes in which to repay them. The man had given up the comfortable life of a Fire Nation royal to follow him from one end of the globe to the other, endured his every harsh word without a single show of temper, offered gentle guidance but always allowed him to make his own choices, guarded Zuko's life with his own, tried to give him the chance for a normal life even after his exile had become seemingly permanent, cared for him whenever he was hurt or sick, been a father to him when his own father didn't care whether he lived or died, and how had Zuko repaid him? With a knife in the back.

_What if he _doesn't_ forgive me?_

It was a thought that twisted his guts with dread… but Zuko knew that he would have to at least consider the possibility. He was through running away from the consequences of his actions.

At the very least, he knew that his uncle was on the side of good. However he responded to Zuko, his friends would still have his help. That was just the kind of man his uncle was, and Zuko took comfort in that fact.

_I don't deserve his forgiveness._

The thought hit him worse than a punch to the gut, worse even than the firebrand that had disfigured him for life. When Zuko had cut ties with his father, he'd told him that he was going to beg for his uncle's forgiveness. Now, he realized that he couldn't.

_I at least have to apologize._

The thought brought him back to his first question. What _was_ he going to say?

Well, he did have plenty of time to think about it. Letting out a breath, Zuko closed his eyes and forced his mind down to a narrow focus.

* * *

Zuko's internal clock, like that of any firebender, was keenly in tune with the cycle of the Sun. When day broke, he felt rather than saw the Sun rise.

When he opened his eyes, the growing light in the tent merely confirmed what he already knew. It wouldn't be much longer.

Sure enough, the snores had stopped. Zuko braced himself for what he had to say.

A few seconds later, his uncle sat up with a wide yawn. As soon as he had finished stretching, his head turned slightly back… and then away. He knew Zuko was there.

Zuko took a deep breath. It was now or never.

"Uncle," he started, willing his voice to remain steady, "I know you must have mixed feelings about seeing me." There was no answer… but still, Zuko plowed on, determined to get through as much of his apology as he could. "But I want you to know… I am so, so sorry, Uncle." The truth of his words was now spilling from his eyes to trail down his cheeks in hot streams, but Zuko didn't even try to wipe away the tears. It was the first time he'd cried since the day of his banishment. "I am so sorry and ashamed of what I did! I don't know how I can ever make it up to you, but I—"

He hadn't even made it through four sentences of his carefully-rehearsed apology before a hand shot out to grab a fistful of his shirt, and he was yanked with bone-crushing force into his uncle's embrace.

* * *

**A/N:** Just a little idea that popped into my head and _would not leave me alone_ until I wrote it down. The title was pretty obvious just as soon as I thought of it.


End file.
